No Stranger To Loneliness
by DaemonCat
Summary: Elrond's life, from his own point of view. Please r & r


_Disclaimer: ...if you really need one. I own nobody. Still. Deal with it. I just thought that Elrond's under-done, especially considering how much he's seen etc. If there are any inconsistencies, mistakes or anything, tell me. Shutting up now. Enjoy._

I am no stranger to loneliness; my brother Elros, as soon as we were old enough chose the mortality of the Atani over the immortality of the Eldar. For we are of the Peredhil, the Half Elven, and Earendil is our sire. As such we alone are allowed to choose our fate; either that of Elves or Men. My brother and I were closer than the bonds of Men could ever be, and we had been through a lot together. My father was a great mariner, and he was often to be voyaging alone, leaving my mother, brother and I to await his return. Songs are still sung of his deeds in Valinor, and even in my former dwelling in the Last Homely House of Rivendell. When Earendil sailed, my mother sat in sorrow beside the mouths of Sirion, and would not be comforted.  
We dwelt at that time by Sirion near the sea and it was on one of these voyages that the last four proud sons of Feanor rode up and destroyed us, the exiles of Gondolin, the great city that had been overwhelmed by Morgoth. They sought the Silmaril that my people harboured that Beren had won and for which Dior the Fair was slain. It was a hopeless fight, and a cruel and a sorrowful, for such was the confusion in the hearts of the Elves that soon they were killing each other regardless. I did not fight, for I was young and had never lived in Gondolin. Two of the sons of Feanor, Amrod and Amras the youngest were slain. My mother cast herself and the Silmaril into the sea, and Elros and I were taken captive. However, the God of the Sea bore her out of the waves and in the likeness of a white bird she flew to Earendil but sailed with him in her true form.  
The remainder of our people allied themselves with Gil-Galad the High King at this time, though I know little of this early friendship, as I was with Elros and the sons of Feanor, Maedhros and Maglor. We lived for that time in fear for our lives, but we had a friend in Maglor; he was heartsick of his father's Oath to find the Silmarils and love grew between us. We were long in captivity and it seemed as though we were naught but a nuisance to anyone, a trouble to those closest to us and a prize to our enemies, though I count neither Feanor nor his kin as my enemies.  
We never saw our parents again and they sailed through the Heavens, the ramparts of which Earendil still keeps watch on. Eventually Maedhros and Maglor found their Silmarils, but they brought only sorrow, and Maedhros threw himself into a deep chasm. Maglor cast his Silmaril into the sea, and I was deeply grieved, because he returned never to the Elves. If he is out there, then I wish to say only this; all has been forgiven, and you may return to us when you will. I have never forgotten you and what you have done for me, and never will, and I will welcome you if ever we meet again.  
We were released and then came our choice, to become mortal, or to be numbered among the Eldar. I chose to abide with Gil-Galad also, but Elros chose otherwise and there was much sorrow on either part, for we each knew that we were truly alone in Arda. Of my brother came the great kings of Numenor, but I saw him no more, and I don't suppose I ever will.  
But I was not totally alone, for I had a great friend in Gil-Galad himself and now began one of the most poignant and important times of my life. Gil-Galad loved me like a son, and I saw him as the father I had lost; though my own father was held still in the highest respect. He told me tales of the Elder Days, that not even he had seen, and also events of his own life. He was unlike any Elf I had known, tall with raven-dark hair and sea-grey eyes that could be serious and yet merry all at once. He had a noble and wise air about him and it seemed as though he feared naught. It was at this point in time that I acquired my insatiable thirst for songs and lore, under the kindly eye of my new found friend. He told me of the Valar, and the Two Trees in Valinor that were in the time of his father's father, and the tarrying of the Sea Elves, the Teleri. I loved hearing about it all but there was one tale I did not like and he never told it to me; the Kinslaying in Alqualonde the Swan Haven.  
"I was separated from my father when I was very young," he said to me once as we sat in a small room in his great house. "When Fingolfin was slain by Morgoth and my father Fingon became High King of the Noldor, he sent me to the Havens to dwell with Cirdan the Shipwright. I was angry with my father for a while, but Cirdan made me feel safe and wanted so I didn't mind so much in the end. I hope you do not feel driven to the same things I did!" he said, with a twinkle in his eye, as though he remembered some mischief or other that he had caused. Then he turned the question to me. "Do you, Master Elrond?"  
I always said "No! Of course not!" which was the complete truth. Then he continued.  
"But Morgoth came to the Havens also, and destroyed them. I escaped with Cirdan and a few others on a ship. I see that my life and yours are not all that different, so far. My father was a friend of Maedhros the Tall, the eldest son of Feanor, and rescued him from the pinnacle of Thangorodrim, and for a while they rode together across the green hills, through the tall trees, singing. But my father was killed in battle, and Maedhros sang no more. I think that he went downhill from there, and sought the Silmarils with more vigour. But I count him not as my enemy, nor any of the other brothers, nor Feanor himself who made the wretched Oath in the first place."  
"But why not?" I cried. My views were different then, and the memory of the attack upon Sirion was still fresh in my mind. It was Gil-Galad who taught me to be wise and slow to judgement.  
"Because it was not the fault of Feanor," he said simply.  
"But he made the Oath! You said so yourself. They attacked and destroyed my people without warning, mercilessly."  
Gil-Galad walked over to me and sat down beside me, with his arm about my shoulders as I wept helplessly; for this was the first time I had mentioned the attack and it had affected me more than I thought.  
"He made the Oath, yes, but it was that Vala whom we now name Morgoth who drove him to it. He ruined the Noldor, many ages ago in Valinor and with his subtlety made them leave, and that is why the Kinslaying happened. We cannot, however, hold Feanor completely blameless in this, but he did not intend things to come to this pass, or would not have if he were himself." Sadness was in his eyes and he was silent for a while, deep in thought.  
"Elrond," he said eventually, "dear Elrond, you who I love like a son, promise that you will not fall prey to the guile of Sauron. Never act in rashness, for there is a fine line between haste and rashness, and I pray that you will know the difference. Feanor did not, and in his own rash decisions has marred the Eldar, and the fruits of his Oath may last for many years to come. Learn from his mistakes!" And with that he left the room, walking with long, graceful strides.  
I learned much that day, and the lessons were bided well. I also never forgot that talk with Gil-Galad. I learned much from him about my own past, which he had learned from those of my people that had allied themselves with him, including the purposes of the attack upon Sirion, and what my father was doing, which was perhaps the biggest surprise of all.  
"He is guarding Arda against Morgoth, that he should not escape from the void into the world once more and ruin it further." I was astounded, that my father should be doing something this important to the future of the world. I had thought it was some sort of pleasure voyage, not protecting Arda against its worst foe!  
"Then why is there still war, and darkness in Beleriand?" I asked, curious yet dreading the answer at the same time.  
"Do you not guess?" asked the King, and there was a trace of sorrow in his voice.  
A strange Lord, calling himself Annatar had suddenly appeared and wanted us to aid him in his "labours", the nature of which we did not hear of. We did not trust him, though we did not guess who he really was until later, and would not let him into our land. That proved better for us. But he did receive an audience with others, and they were taken in.  
We heard nothing more from him for a long time, and we carried on with life as normal. Now that I had heard from my father, I loved nothing more than to hear the tale of he and Elwing, and of how he had slain Ancalagon the Black, greatest of all of the winged dragons, outside in the evening, when the star that was his ship was visible, Gil-Estel, the Star of Hope. I learned that Gil-Galad had been separated from his father also, at a very young age. He had been sent to the Havens, as he had told me, but then was killed in battle. "They beat him into the dust, and trod his blue and silver banner into the mire of his blood," he said bitterly. There was a fire in his grey eyes, kindling them with a fierce silver flame and it startled me. I had never seen him like this; hating Morgoth that had done this deed with a hatred comparable to that of Feanor, and I was scared that he might become like him. I backed off, nervously, ready to run, but the bitter hatred that consumed him disappeared as soon as it had come.  
He saw my frightened expression and smiled sorrowfully. "You have seen for the first time the battle-rage, that drives Men and Elves to fight one another, and spurs desperate warriors to desperate actions. You shall see more of it by the end."  
We learned later that Annatar, which means Lord of Gifts, was naught else but Sauron, Morgoth's most trusted servant. He had secretly been devising a ring that would rule all of the Elven Rings of Power, which the Noldorin smiths had crafted. It had to be a very powerful thing that would rule these Rings, for they were very great in power, and so much of Sauron' own strength and will went into its making. But we were not so lightly to be caught! Did he not think that when he put on his Ring, that we would perceive it? Apparently he did not. But the Elves fled from him, and bore away the last Three rings, Narya, Nenya and Vilya, the rings of Fire, Water and Air. They were given to the Wise and were never again used openly. It was after this that Men and Dwarves were ensnared, by the Seven and the Nine. Then came the Black Years, when many Elves fled to the West, and came not back to Middle Earth, and many more were slain by Morgoth. But there were those that came to Gil-Galad, and so our power slowly built up. The Numenoreans aided us, and challenged Sauron. But they reckoned without Sauron's cunning, and he went there as a hostage, but corrupted most of the people there. He then set them at war with the Valar, and their own ruin was nigh. But he was also mistaken, and had forgotten the might of the Lords of the West in their anger. The very earth shook, and Sauron himself fell into the abyss and his spirit fled. And yet some were saved, the chief of which was Elendil, the Elf Friend who was befriended by myself and Gil- Galad. The Numenoreans dwelt scattered across Middle Earth, but they were ever after allied with the Eldar.  
When Sauron came back from Numenor, however, he was furious to learn that our power had grown greater, but he could not do anything about it, for his spirit was houseless. So he flew back to his fortress and meditated on war.  
It was a good many years until he came back, but we did not relax, instead fortifying, because we knew he'd be back as soon as he could.  
I founded the stronghold of Imladris that is called Rivendell, and fortified it. The second son of Elendil, Anarion, was Sauron's first target after he had taken Minas Ithil, and destroyed the White Tree, and long he held Osgiliath against him. But he could not last alone, and so Elendil and Gil-Galad took counsel. They formed the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, and I was the standard bearer.  
When I first found out about the Alliance I was hesitant. "War? We are waging war? Against Sauron?"  
Gil-Galad nodded. "We are waging war. Against Sauron. Are you scared?"  
"No," I said, hanging my head.  
He smiled wryly. "Well you should be."  
"And I am! Not of the fighting, though, in case...but...they might..." I trailed off, hopelessly.  
"You're still thinking of the attack on you and your people in Sirion." I nodded miserably. "Well, that was a terrible thing, and I'm glad I didn't see it. But this won't be like that. I promise. Elves will certainly be killed, that goes without saying, but the Elves won't be killing them. Our business is with Orcs and Sauron when the time comes. Avenge your people! You cannot fight Morgoth, but Sauron will be there. If you cannot fight Sauron, then fight the Orcs. Your people will be avenged a hundred times over, and so will the other victims of Morgoth and Sauron. You are to be standard bearer, but take a sword, or whichever weapon you can use. I shall fight with Aeglos, my spear, so you may take Naruth." Naruth means Fire of Anger, and was his sword, and Aeglos means Snow-point. I was instructed in the art of bearing the standard, and warned of the dangers. Being a carrier of the standard is not as easy as it sounds. For one thing, the enemy almost always seeks the standard bearer, because he stands out, and gives the army morale. I had studied swordplay, and so I was to take Naruth, a beautifully balanced blade, but I had never fought in war before. I had seen it at Sirion, but to take part was to be completely different. We reached Osgiliath too late. Anarion was slain, and Elendil was inconsolable, as was his eldest son, Isildur. The Eldar also were saddened by his death, for he was much liked among us, and we had been good friends.  
We laid Sauron to siege for seven years, and I became experienced in the art of battle. However, we came no nearer to defeating him, and the time was coming when the siege would end, and the stronger would be clear. This was to be different to all of the skirmishes I had fought in; this was real war, and more than likely, death would be the only victor.  
Gil-Galad seemed to thoroughly enjoy the preparations for war, and I even felt a thrill run down my own spine when I thought of it. I asked him on one grey morning before the battle that was to end the war if he was afraid. He laughed, a merry sound amid the forging of armour and Men and Elves all around us fencing and shooting arrows at targets.  
"Afraid?" he said. "Master Elrond, if either of us come out of this alive it will be a miracle! Why be afraid if the odds are stacked against us anyway?"  
"They are?" I asked, eyes wide with fear.  
"Of course they are! We are going against the strongest being in Middle Earth and he won't surrender easily. In fact, the purpose of this battle is to make sure he doesn't. Because if we let him, then almost certainly he will begin again, corrupting and becoming even more powerful." All traces of mirth had left the Elven-King's face. "We must destroy him, or the One Ring that he has devised. For they are one."  
I then plucked up enough courage to ask a question that had been ever present at the back of my mind. "My lord, what are we to do if you are slain? For you have no heir." He put his hand on my shoulder, and it trembled slightly. He looked at me, then lowered his eyes to the floor. Sighing, he answered. "I am to be the last King of the Noldor. There will be no others. This battle is to be more important than we imagined, and afterwards, the Elves shall fade, as shall many fair things. You will stay, and be Master of Imladris for as long as you live, and I shall be King for as long as I live. Then there shan't be a need for any more. Many Elves shall be destroyed in the battle, and those that remain shall be under protection of the Three. I have not told you this, but Vilya, the Ring of Air is in my possession. You are to have it when I die. Keep it safe, in Imladris. It shall become a mighty stronghold in the time to come, even if you are not its Master always."  
These words alarmed me, and I asked him what he meant by them. "I know not who will survive the battle, only that Imladris will be important in years to come."  
I didn't sleep that night.  
At last the day of battle arrived, and we were well prepared, or so we thought. Elendil and Isildur led their host of tall proud Men, in gleaming silver armour, and Gil-Galad was at the front of those Elves that dwelt in his lands. I met them with my host of Elves who abode in Rivendell, and we marched to Mordor. It broke my heart to send such young, brave Elves that I knew so well out to die like this, but I couldn't have stopped them if I'd tried. They were set upon fighting, and my heart grieved to think that the world should come to a time when fighting is necessary to preserve good.  
With each step we took, I felt my doom coming nearer and nearer, hanging over me like a cloud, but I forced it away and concentrated on instructing my company, giving them ideas for strategies. We discussed the positions of each battalion, and the archers. I had learned of the archer's strategy in the house of Gil-Galad, where the archers are in ranks, and the first line shoot first, crouching to reload while the next line fire, and then they crouch, and the third line loose their arrows. I talked them through this concept and a good many more plans when we camped at night. I think we did this more out of wanting to be occupied than of a need. As we got closer to the appointed battlefield, Isildur and I became close, and after nightfall he told me of my brother, Elros, and how he fared. I didn't know jut how much I missed him, and how long it had been since we had seen each other until then. He had lived to be five hundred, and had ruled the Numenoreans for four hundred and ten years, but it had been longer than that since we had parted. I decided to fight for him, as well as my people.  
We reached the valley of Gorgoroth, and saw arrayed upon the slopes of Orodruin the vast armies of Sauron, like a dark cloud upon the earth, and many of the Atani and Eldar in our hosts quailed to see them, as did I, but I kept my feelings hidden, to show Gil-Galad that I could be strong and fearless too. He smiled at me appreciating the gesture. We were going to let the opposition make their way towards us, and we were organised, and ready for them. I stood at the head of our archers, and roared orders at them: "First line! Fire! Down and reload! Second line! Fire! Down! Third! Fire! Down!" until the Orcs were so close we could see individuals, and see their foul faces grinning as they waved their various weapons. I appointed a leader for the archers to direct them, and joined Gil-Galad and Elendil with Isildur, and Naruth drawn. Gil-Galad winked at me, with Aeglos ready. The leaf-shaped blade at its tip shone blood red in the light of the dawn. Strangely enough, I was not scared, at seeing our side's strength displayed so proudly. By now the Orcs were nearing, and each man in the front line had his weapon to hand, murmuring prayers to whichever God they honoured. Few now remained unmoved, but I am proud to say that I was one of them. Isildur and I stood side by side, and he did not tremble, but instead began to converse with the quaking soldier next to him, stilling his fear, and most probably his own. It seemed an eternity before the companies of Sauron were close enough to begin hand-to-hand combat, but the archers were picking them off, one by one, as were theirs.  
The sides clashed, and the air rang with the sound of steel against steel, and the cries of the stricken echoed around the valley. That was an experience that will ever remain in my memory, Isildur with his sword, fighting as calmly as though he were practising with one of his comrades, Elendil with his Narsil like a halo of silver, scything paths through the enemy like corn in the fields. None withstood Aeglos, the spear of Gil- Galad. I felt battle-lust race through my blood, and all of a sudden I was invincible! I did not know fear, or pain, and every moment was a fresh glory. I fought with whatever came to hand, Naruth, or the pole of the standard, or even my bare hands. I was strong, and fast. None who looked upon Naruth, wheeling in an arc of steel above my head, ever looked again. I do not know how long this went on for; time was irrelevant to my new frame of mind. We were winning; the black tide against us was diminishing and we were ready to go home at last, when there was an ominous thunder from Orodruin. Our remaining host looked up at the summit of the mountain, and quailed. The battle rage that had kept us all going deserted us at last, and for the first time, I saw the battle as it had really been.  
The bodies strewn across the valley floor were barely recognisable, though here and there were features that I could make out, and many were those I had known and loved. The hateful armies of Sauron had hewn many where they lay, and grief assailed me for the Elves that would never again see the fair woodland in spring, or hear the soft music of the sea on a dusky summer evening. The Men also were seeing the fallen comrades they had known, and would have wept for them, but we were given no time to grieve, for then a tall, dark figure made its way towards our companies, from some hidden entrance in the rock of Mount Orodruin; Sauron himself!  
Elendil and Gil-Galad exchanged glances, and as if by a sudden irresistible force walked slowly to the silhouette that stood motionless against the evening sun that cast its red light over the valley. Words were passed that I did not hear, and will never know now, for none now live that heard them. They looked back at us, and Isildur stood forward beside his father. Cirdan the Shipwright, who had also been present at the battle, and I aided Gil-Galad. I left the standard behind, not caring that it was one of the strict rules of warfare that the standard should be borne till either death or the end of the fight. This just felt like an exception to all rules, and because of this, I was even more on the alert. I wondered why Elendil had only one man to back him, and then it hit me that Anarion was dead.  
It was agreed that a duel was to be the way of ending the battle, though many hot words were said before Sauron was willing to let both of the lords fight at once. Soon the duel was begun, and though both Aeglos and Narsil should have been enough for anyone to take, Sauron was too quick and powerful. Too quickly were those courageous Kings spent, and to their ruin. For as soon as Sauron sensed that they were weakening, his halberd was swiftly employed to end the fight. However Cirdan pushed both Isildur and me into the fray, hissing that this was what we were here for. I do not wish to recall the rest of the battle, for the sorrow of it was too great to remember. When all was done, and we were almost spent also, having protected Elendil and Gil-Galad as well as getting some hits in ourselves, Isildur saw his chance. While Cirdan and I kept the Dark Lord at bay, Isildur took the hilt shard of Narsil that had broke beneath the stricken King as he fell, and sliced a deadly arc across Sauron's right hand, slashing at his fingers and managing to separate one from its hand. By an incredible stroke of chance, it was the one on which the Ring was worn, and Isildur quickly coveted it. That was enough for Sauron; much of his power was now disappeared, and we somehow managed to defeat him, and his houseless spirit fled shrieking into the mountain, as once had his masters. His armies fled, scattering across the ground like rats.  
Now finally we could gather together the remains of our shredded lives and build them again. But first there were dead to tend, and wounded to see to. Even before this, I raced as fast as I could towards Gil-Galad, lying still upon the rocks, amid the rent and pitted earth. The stars were beginning to awake, tiny points of light in the void. I knelt by his battered and broken body, racking sobs born of pent-up emotion shaking my body mercilessly. He was still alive, but would not remain that way for long. I saw it in his eyes, the knowledge of his own mortality drawing inexorably closer, and his serene acceptance of it. I cradled his head in my arms, tears of grief and helpless rage falling from my eyes, tracing a path through the sweat, and blood, and dirt.  
"Please, do not leave me alone, now," I whispered, brokenly. "We have won! You must live! Sauron is vanquished, his armies scattered like chaff in the wind. What cruel fate is this, to take you from me even as our target is reached?"  
Gil-Galad opened his eyes, the bright spark within them flickering dimly. "It is my time. Most faithful companion, I would not leave you alone, as you have been left so often before. Weep not for me. Take Vilya, and as you wear it think of me. We will meet again, a long time from now, but for the present, you will be Master of Imladris, and it will become a mighty stronghold against evil. I will be watching you from the House of Mandos, to give you counsel in your need. Alas! For I feel my strength waning at last, and my weary spirit must flee this mortal plain! Farewell Master Elrond, and remember, you are never alone, not while you still live!"  
The gleam in his eyes went out forever, and I broke down completely. In that one moment, I had seen father, brother and friend die. I gently kissed his brow. "Namarie, aran, Gil-Galad." which means in the Westron tongue, "Farewell, my king, Star of Radiance." When I had borne his body to be tended, I sought out Isildur.  
"Do you still have the Ring?" I asked urgently.  
"Yes," he answered, looking suspiciously at me. "What do you want with it?"  
"I?" My voice was quiet and steady. "Nothing. You must destroy it before any other harm can come from it! Come; to Mount Orodruin is our errand now."  
We toiled up the cruel mountain, and I did not allow myself to feel the pain of my own wounds, though my grief was steadily growing. But the voice of Gil-Galad urged me ever on, and I found strength in his voice. The ring, Vilya also spurred me onwards towards the summit, but Isildur was slowing down, whether from grief for his father and brother, or fatigue or reluctance I did not know.  
By this time I was doubled over with pain, exhausted and ready to collapse, but I kept going. We stopped at the top of Orodruin, and I leaned heavily on a scorched rock. I nodded towards the dancing flames within the crater of the mountain.  
"Cast it in."  
Isildur made a fatal hesitation, and I knew that the Ring had ensnared him, but I kept trying. However, no amount of coaxing, begging or pleading would make him part with that Ring. Finally, in defeat, I slowly made my way down the stony slopes. Isildur insisted that he wished to keep the Ring in memory of his father and brother, but I knew better. Why would he keep the very thing that had killed them? He also kept Narsil, but I let him alone about that. I too was grieving, and so I kept to myself. As my mind cleared, I was aware of two presences, one close by, the other far away. It occurred to me that these were the other Rings, and I decided to seek the closer Ring, which made itself known as Narya, the Ring of Fire. I meandered and wandered through the wake of the terrible battle, being careful not to disturb the bodies, and all the time the Ring was growing closer. When at last I felt as though I was almost on top of it, I saw an unexpected figure, stooped among the wreckage, alternately lamenting and cursing in many tongues the destruction Sauron had caused.  
I tapped him on the shoulder, enquiringly. He whirled around, with only the slightest trace of surprise in his bright eyes. "Master Elrond?" he asked incredulously. "Mithrandir?" I cried, glad to see a familiar face, though I had had few dealings with the wizard.  
"This is a grievous turn to things, when I can be seen by mortal eyes -forgive me, lad, no offence meant. But no," he mused. "If I sense rightly, and I am seldom wrong, Vilya is now in your possession. Is then Gil-Galad slain?" I nodded miserably. The events on the mountain came tumbling out in a rush.  
"I tried to stop Isildur, but he wouldn't listen to me! I am sorry; it's all my fault. I have failed. I should have tried harder."  
"Whoa there! Steady young Elrond! How have you failed? What did Isildur do that needs stopping? Tell me slowly, now, deep breaths."  
And so I told him. "There now, it wasn't your fault." He said comfortingly, when I had finished. "None of us could have prevented it from happening, no, not were it Gil-Galad himself. What we must do now is see to it that no harm befalls Middle Earth as a result of his madness."  
And that was my part in the tale of the One Ring.  
Isildur was betrayed by the Ring, to his death, and it remained at the bottom of the Anduin, that we name Sirion, for two and a half thousand years. But since that tale is recounted elsewhere, I shall not recall it.  
And as for the rest of my life? I remained Master of Imladris, as Gil- Galad had foretold, for a long while, and in it was kept many accounts of lore, writings and songs of the Elder Days. I wished not to be involved in war any more, since all it had brought me were pain and sorrow. I wedded Celebrian, the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, and we lived happily for many hundreds of years before I lost her. She bore me two sons, Elladan and Elrohir, and a daughter, Arwen Evenstar, in whom was said to live the likeness of Luthien, my mother's father's mother. Arwen fell in love with the heir of Isildur, Aragorn Telcontar and chose mortality, as had my brother, and Luthien before her. I remained Master of Imladris until the end of the One Ring, when Frodo the Halfling did what Isildur could not.  
When the Third Age of the world drew to its close, I knew that my part in it had also ended, and gave the choice to the Elves of my household, to either come with me and sail into the West, or to stay in Middle Earth until it's end. With us came Mithrandir, bearer of Narya, and Galadriel, the bearer of Nenya, and that same Frodo who had rid the world at last from its long threat.  
In Valimar, that place in the West to which the Elves go to when they weary of the world, there is no war, only joy, but in that joy is blended the immeasurable sorrow of the Elves, without which it would be diminished. I then fully understood the tale of the Third Theme of the Great Music before the world began, and that for happiness to be increased, sometimes sacrifices must be made, and grief must be suffered, but when all is over, the result is more magnificent than can be imagined.  
I am no stranger to loneliness, that deceiving mist of illusion we weave about ourselves in times of hardship. Sometimes it is those we cannot see who are with us the most. One day, this world will end, and then will be many glad meetings, between friends, brothers, lovers, family, but until then, this must suffice: the knowledge that we are never alone.  
-owari-


End file.
